If I do not enjoy writing a story, how can I expect my readers to enjoy reading it?
Thought for the Day
Tag: The Art of Writing
Thunder in Writing
About 2:00 a.m. on December 6, on the drive home after visiting my sister and her husband, I was contemplating where I want to go with my current work-in-progress. I am loathe to give away the plot, so suffice it to say that it involves a scientist that travels to another planet and tours it with a fellow scientist from that planet. I have come to realize over the last few days that the original plot concept is boring, although in terms of literature it would be fairly intriguing, because of the internal struggles the main character would face and some social issues it would raise.
It occurred to me is that the critical question was not where to take the plot of the story, but where do I want the book to go in terms of its impact on the society/world. I am not so naïve as to think that it would have a earth-shattering impact like Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code or be controversial like Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer or Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World or even break out like Stephen King’s Carrie, but no matter how it is received publically or critically, it will make an impact, even if it is negligible one. The best I reason that I can do, is to try to make as big a splash as possible on its release and hope that it brings me some measure of success or at least puts me on the road to success. But what can I do to create that splash? What have been the characteristics of other initial successes?
I don’t know how the analogy suddenly popped into my mind, but I realized that what the story needs is thunder. Perhaps it was that a light rain had fallen sporadically over the last few days and the land was still wet with shallow puddles still lingering on the road in spots on this near-freezing night. Somehow this struck a chord in my subconscious that stirred echoes of similar post-thunderstorm summer nights. As I look back on that moment, though I wasn’t even thinking of those novels, it occurs to me now that they each have an element I would describe as “thunder”, something that resounds across the land striking a nerve in the public consciousness.
For some novels, like The Da Vinci Code, the thunder is an aspect that touches on a sensitive nerve within a large number of the public. In The Da Vinci Code‘s instance, this was deeply ingrained religious beliefs that, like the foundation of a house, if disturbed, shake the entire house.
For novels like The Tropic of Cancer, the thunder is something that disturbs the public’s sense of decency, which could be argued to be the image of itself that the public wishes to project.
Brave New World did not make as great an impact on its initial reception as it did later, when many of the technologies and issues it describes actually started to come into being. Then it thundered greatly.
Carrie did not rock the literary or moral or religious foundations of society, but it was a great personal thunder for Stephen King and brought him suddenly into the public view.
There are undoubtedly other forms of thunder, but these are the ones that spring into mind initially.
Once I recognized that my goal as a writer is to thunder, the next question became what type of thunder do I want to have?
For me, I want to ask a profound question (or questions) that demand answers. As stated, I don’t want to give away the plot of the novel(la), so I will unfortunately have to leave you in suspense for now, but check back with my blog periodically and let’s see if I can achieve this. Wish me luck.
Thoughts? Comments?
Notes on “The Hellbound Heart” Part 2 of 2
I finished reading The Hellbound Heart several weeks ago. As noted previously, it is a truly terrific read. I suggest reading it after seeing the movie (if you have somehow repeatedly missed your chances of seeing “Hellraiser” over the last twenty or so years). Reading it beforehand will just spoil the movie, whereas reading it afterwards may enlighten parts of the movie.
I don’t have much to add to what I have previously stated, except that, if you are a student of storytelling, the book warrants a detailed examination for narrative technique as it exhibits some basic techniques of storytelling that Mr. Barker carries out very well. I could go through the book page by page and expound on each ad nauseam, but instead I will focus now on one that sticks in my mind.
I do not recall if this is in the movie, but toward the end where Kirsty is trapped in the “damp room” by Frank, she slips on a bit of preserved ginger lying on the floor enabling Frank to catch her. The method by which Barker establishes why that ginger is on the floor fascinates me.
Although I have one or two dictionaries of literary terms, I do not recall the name for this technique and I think of it as simply setting the stage for a future scene. It shows the foresight, planning, and attention to detail that must go into any good story.
Earlier in the story, after Julia has released Frank from the Cenobite hell and he has regained enough flesh that he can once again eat, he asks Julia for a few of his favorite victuals, including preserved ginger. At the moment I read this, I thought it was simply a natural but insignificant detail. Of course, I could not know then that that bit of ginger would skyrocket the dramatic tension later on in one of the novel’s most important scenes.
Anyway, that’s my post for the day.
I have been very negligent in posting anything over the last months, my daytime job and personal matters consuming much more of my time than usual. I have recently come to find out though, that many more people in my home town of Frankfort, KY, were enjoying my postings than I had known or even believed possible and sorely missed it during this hiatus. For them and all the others who silently enjoy my works, I shall endeavor to pick up the thread.
I have not lost my desire to write fiction, however, and I am currently trying to finish a sci-fi/horror novella that I started sometime back. The work is going well, but I am having to change some of my original concept to make it more exciting. I would like to make it as gripping as some have found my “Murder by Plastic” (published at www.everydayfiction.com), but that will be quite difficult for something as long as a novella. The part I find most challenging is to coordinate the details much as Barker did in the example I give above. I would expound on the subject, but I do not want to give away the plot or run the risk of some unscrupulous cur stealing my idea and publishing it before I do–particularly as I am so close to finishing it. After this I have another three or four unfinished works to bring to a close. I could probably write eight hours a day like Thomas Mann and still not be finished by spring.
Thoughts? Comments?
Notes on Clive Barker’s “The Hellbound Heart”…so far….
I am just past the halfway point in Clive Barker’s The Hellbound Heart, the novella upon which the orginal “Hellraiser” movie was based. This is one really terrific read. It is one of those that is hard to put down, even though you know what happens next, because the movie, which you saw twenty years ago and have seen periodically since then, so closely resembles the book.
The prose is simple, but not Hemingway simple, and there are moments of actual narrative beauty (such as when Barker poignantly describes the passing of seasons in the beginning of one chapter) that seem to be glimpses of insight into a latent aspect of Barker’s immense talent: that he is able to write actually artistic prose that captures a moment, an emotion, or a sensation with a light touch that carries over to the reader. I have read the first two volumes (so far) of Barker’s Books of Blood and this quality seems to be lacking in them. In Books of Blood, he writes splendidly, but not beautifully, not poignantly.
I also love the way he keeps his characters to a minimum, so that seeing the complex relationships between them is easy.
Another fascinating aspect of Barker’s storytelling in this instance is that he can put his characters in horrifying situations, yet he does not try to be any more graphic than is necessary to invoke an emotional response in the ready. The few truly graphic scenes I have encountered so far are graphic, but not gratuitously graphic. An example would be when the recently-resurrected Frank starts to have sex with with brother’s wife Julia. He shows the act beginning and ends the chapter leaving what happens up to the reader’s imagination. Yes, this is an old trick straight out of made-for-TV movies, but do you really need to visualize every gory detail of a woman having sex with someone who is still half-corpse? I didn’t. And seeing that would not have helped the storytelling and if anything, it would have only detracted from it. Besides, if someone wants to visualize that unnerving scene for themselves, they are going to whether or not Barker describes it for them. All that is necessary to show the development of the characters and the plot is to show that they did have sex, because that act in itself shows something about them. About Frank it show how incredibly callous he is to Julia and how centered he is in the world of his own pleasure. About Julia, it shows her love for Frank is so self-sacrificing that she is willing to commit the most vile acts for him while taking obscene pleasure in them in her own way.
Anyway, those are just a few notes so far. I need to have dinner and do some housework and to read more of this fascinating work. Hopefully, I will be able to write more soon.
Thoughts? Comments?
Notes on “The Martian Chronicles”
Someone once told Ray Bradbury that “The Martian Chronicles” was not prose, but poetry. Technically, he was probably wrong, but in spirit truer words were probably never spoken.
I have a habit of reading several books at once. I will pick up one, read a few pages (unless it is so engrossing that I cannot put it down), then later pick up another and read a few pages or so of it, then still later read a few pages of another and so forth until I may be reading half a dozen books a few pages at a time. Then I may finish one and pick up another, something like the juggler who keeps the china plates spinning on sticks.
I picked up “The Martian Chronicles” while on a trip to Santa Fe in December, 2012 at The Collected Works bookstore. Since then it has stayed in my suitcase and I pick it up and read more every time I travel.
I have not read much of late and have written less, but on trip last week, I made use of my relatively new Kindle for the first time and read three stories of Poe’s (“A Descent into the Maelstrom”, “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar”, and “The Imp of the Perverse”) along with the original German version of “Little Red Riding Hood” by the Brothers Grimm. This has started my interest in literature and writing to smoulder once again. After I returned home, I decided to take “The Martian Chronicles” out of the suitcase and reluctantly finish it.
I say “reluctantly” because, while reading it, it is one of those beautifully eloquent novels that you don’t want to put down much less ever see come to an end. On those nights I read a few chapters at a time in the comfort of a well-kept hotel, I never really wanted to put it down and only did so when the hour was late and I was struggling to stay awake after a long day, a good suppper, and a few glasses of wine.
The stories are always poignant, captivating, and sometimes heart-rending. The characters have a depth that draws you in as if you could step inside their bodies and see their world from their perspectives. Of course, your tendency is to side with the humans as they colonize the red planet, but at the same time you sympathize with the Martians as they watch their civilization dwindle and gradually vanish under the onslaught of alien explorers and settlers. However, what is the most beautiful facet of the novel is its use of English.
Bradbury’s nascent style (as I understand from one website, he had been writing seriously only seven years when he
by Lou Romano
published this, his first novel) uses simple, clear, easy-to-understand prose that highlights only enough important details to enable the reader to vicariously experience the story. The fact that the prose is very simple and lacking in needlessly ostentatious words helps the reader to see clearly the interaction of the characters and their mindsets and the underlying motivations and plots. For me, if a work is full of big words, I spend too much time either trying to decipher them or running to the dictionary that I lose the tenuous feeling for what is happening in the story. His use of language clarifies rather than obscures. The sentences are generally of medium length and this helps the story to flow without becoming monotonous.
The plots of the stories are deceptively simple in design, but most still manage to have an unexpected denouement that leaves the reader feeling like a simpleton that he did not see it coming. Some, though, have such completely unexpected endings that there is no way they could be anticipated but in retrospect the denouement is incredibly logical. The first chapters describing explorer’s first encounters with the Martians are wonderful examples of this while the story I read only last night, “The Off Season”, has such a brilliantly ironic twist that it has to be a prime example of Bradbury’s genius.
I suppose I could continue on for a while raving about Bradbury’s art, but it is getting late and I have had a long day and still have dinner and drinks awaiting my arrival at home.
But what has any of this admiration for a science-fiction writer’s skill have to do with the art of writing?
Beauty is beauty no matter what the genre. Skill in writing is skill in writing.
I wish I had at least a smidgen of Bradbury’s talent so that I could make use of it in the field of horror. What depths of emotion and terror could I then reach?
Having read “Fahrenheit 451” many years ago, next on my list of Bradbury works is “The Illustrated Man”. I can hardly wait, but will probably have to–having five or six other books that I am currently reading. Still…that hasn’t stopped me yet from picking up a novel to be explored.
Please, even if you are a diehard horror aficianado, read “The Martian Chronicles” to learn something about writing as an art that you can apply to your own endeavors. The experience will definitely be rewarding and perhaps even enlightening.
Thoughts? Comments?
Neil Gaiman: ‘Face facts: we need fiction’ | Books | The Guardian
at the 2007 Scream Awards
Photo by pinguino k
Here is a fascinating perspective on fiction by Neil Gaiman: ‘Face facts: we need fiction’ | Books | The Guardian.
Visit “The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, Volume 1” but not for the obvious reason.
The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, Volume 1. Yes, this link takes you to a collection of Poe’s works, but the reason I am mentioning it here is because the preface to this particular volume includes fascinating biographical notes and insight into the character of this master of horror that may help you understand the roots of his creative genius and how art sometimes came close to imitating life for Mr. Poe.
When you open the page, you may find yourself a little distance from the top of the article at the beginning of a section entitled “The Death of Edgar Allan Poe”. While this section is fascinating in its own right, scroll to the top for the entire preface. The works of Poe, beginning with the story of Hans Pfall, begin a bit down from “The Death…”
Dictionary.com – Seven Spooky Words
Here are a few more words for your horror vocabulary: “Seven Spooky Words for Halloween” at Dictionary.com – Free Online English Dictionary.
I apologize for the glitch, but apparently you cannot get to the Seven Spooky Words without having to flip through the Monsters of Literature and Folklore slide show. Both slide shows are enjoyable and quick, so I recommend visiting both anyway.
Slattery’s Vocabulary of Horror
Here are some intriguing words that may be of interest to writers of horror or to writers in general. Most come from Dictionary.com. I hope to be posting more from time to time. Every field has its own jargon. The writing of horror should have its own. I have taken these from two or three sources.
hadal: adjective: 1. of or pertaining to the greatest ocean depths, below approximately 20,000 feet (6500 meters). 2. of or pertaining to the biogeographic region of the ocean bottom below the abyssal zone. Hadal entered English in the mid-1900s, and comes from the name Hades, the Greek god of the underworld.
de profundis adverb: out of the depths (of sorrow, despair, etc.). De profundis means “out of the depths” in Latin. It is the opening of Latin translation of Psalm 130 which continues “Out of the depths I cry to you.” Today the term can be used as a phrase to convey sadness or as an adverb.
isolato noun: a person who is spiritually isolated from or out of sympathy with his or her times or society.
mordacious adjective: 1. sharp or caustic in style, tone, etc. 2. biting or given to biting.
topos noun: a convention or motif, especially in a literary work; a rhetorical convention.
Anacoluthon (an-uh-kuh-LOO-thon) noun: 1. A construction involving a break in grammatical sequence, as It makes me so—I just get angry. 2. An instance of anacoluthia.
Catachresis (kat-uh-KREE-sis) noun: Misuse or strained use of words, as in a mixed metaphor, occurring either in error or for rhetorical effect.
Apophasis (uh-POF-uh-sis), noun: Denial of one’s intention to speak of a subject that is at the same time named or insinuated, as “I shall not mention Caesar’s avarice, nor his cunning, nor his morality.”
Palter (PAWL-ter) verb: 1. To talk or act insincerely or deceitfully; lie or use trickery. 2. To bargain with; haggle. 3. To act carelessly; trifle.
Questions? Comments?
Selections from The Writer’s Home Companion
The other day I happened to find my copy of The Writer’s Home Companion (by James Charlton and Lisbeth Mark, 1987), which I had lost/forgotten some time back. I have been perusing it since and have found several anecdotes on various authors of horror, which had not captured my attention when I purchased the book, because I was not interested in writing horror at the time. I am quoting them below for your entertainment and consideration. They provide a few insights and lessons into the art and business of writing as well as into the lives of writers, if not in the art of horror specifically. If you would like to read more of the book, you can probably find a copy at your local library or half-price bookstore.
“Edgar Allan Poe opted to self-publish Tamerlane and Other Poems. He was able to sell only forty copies and made less than a dollar after expenses. Ironically, over a century later, one of his self-published copies sold at auction for over $11,000.”
at Comicon, 2007
Photo by Penguino
“Stephen King sent his first novel to the editor of the suspense novel The Parallax View. William G. Thompson rejected that submission and several subsequent manuscripts until King sent along Carrie. Years later some of those earlier projects were published under King’s pseudonym Richard Bachmann, and one was affectionately dedicated to ‘W.G.T.'”
“Edgar Allan Poe perpetrated a successful hoax in the New York Sun with an article he wrote in the April 13, 1844 edition of the paper. He described the arrival, near Charleston, South Carolina, of a group of English ‘aeronauts’ who, as he told the story, had crossed the Atlantic in a dirigible in just seventy-five hours. Poe had cribbed most of his narrative from an account by Monck Mason of an actual balloon trip he and his companions had made from London to Germany in November 1836. Poe’s realistically detailed fabrication fooled everyone.”
Portrait by Girolamo Nerli
(1860-1926)
“Robert Louis Stevenson was thrashing about in his bed one night, greatly alarming his wife. She woke him up, infuriating Stevenson, who yelled, ‘I was dreaming a fine bogey tale!’ The nightmare from which he had been unwillingly extracted was the premise for the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
“Amiably discussing the validity of ghosts, Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley decided to try their poetic skills at writing the perfect horror story. While nothing came of their efforts, Shelley’s young wife, Mary Wollstonecroft, overheard the challenge and went about telling her own. It began ‘It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the Accomplishment of my toils.’ Her work was published in 1818, when she was twenty-one, and was titled Frankenstein.”
“Edgar Allan Poe was expelled from West Point in 1831 for ‘gross neglect of duty’. The explanation for his dismissal had to do with his following, to the letter, with an order to appear on the parade grounds in parade dress, which, according to the West Point rule book, consisted of ‘white belt and gloves.’ Poe reportedly arrived with his rifle, dressed in his belt and gloves–and nothing else.”
Portrait by Henry William Pickersgill
“Traveling along the Italian Riviera, Lord Bulwer-Lytton, done up in an embarrassingly elaborate outfit, acknowledged the stares of passersby. Lady Lytton, amused at his vanity, suggested that it was not admiration, but ‘that ridiculous dress’ that caught people’s eyes. Lytton responded, ‘You think that people stare at my dress and not at me? I will give you the most absolute and convincing proof that your theory has no foundation.’ Keeping on only his hat and boots, Lytton removed every other article of clothing and rode in his open carriage for ten miles to prove his point.”
If you have anecdotes about your favorite authors that you would like to share, please do.
Questions? Comments?
Assure or Ensure or Insure?
Yesterday, I happened across a good article at Vocabulary.com that cleared up something for me and so I thought I would pass along the info. Have you ever wondered about the difference between assure, ensure, and insure? Here is the answer: Assure/Ensure/Insure.
The Importance of Being Interesting | READ | Research in English at Durham
Here is another blog post that I happened across recently. You may find it of interest with regards to writing in general.
The Importance of Being Interesting | READ | Research in English at Durham.
TXTLIT Contest at Flash Fiction World
I was looking for a place to submit a flash fiction story today, when I ran across an interesting contest I thought I would share with you just because it would be a true challenge of one’s writing skills. “Flash Fiction World” has several contests, one of which (on the right side of the page to which the link leads) is to text a story to them of 160 characters or less. Here are the details:
TXTLIT
Wordcount:up to 160 characters
Mobile phone entry
Prize: At least £50
Closing date: Monthly
Website
I feel confident that the editors will not mind if I encourage any many of you as possible to partake of the challenge.
Near the bottom of the page, they also provide some interesting comments on writing flash fiction for those who are used to writing other literary forms:
Experienced writers
If you have been writing short stories or novels then switching to flash fiction for a change can be a steep but rewarding learning curve. Make no mistake, flash fiction is unique in style and technique. An FF story is not a mini novella or any other traditional style of literature.
At the same time, your skills in dialogue, character, exposition etc. will stand you in good stead. Knowing how to set mood, pace and other elements needed to sell a story to the reader will, of course. give you a head start.
If you are suffering from the dreaded writer’s block, then attempting a 300 word story based around a single idea can be just the thing to unblock your creative flow. Sometimes the enormity of starting a novel or even a short story of traditional size can bring you to a halt. A small FF piece focussed on the look someone gave you at the busstop, a flat tyre on the motorway, or the letter to someone you don’t know that you found in the street, may well seem far more doable.
Thoughts? Comments?
Elmore Leonard on Writing
at the Miami Book Fair International, 1989
Photo by MDCarchives
Elmore Leonard passed away the other day and today a friend of mine posted this on Facebook in his honor. It contains some great tips on writing in general. Enjoy. Mr. Leonard will be sorely missed. Unfortunately, I have read only a small fraction of his works, but I do have one or two of his books on my shelves waiting to be read.
WRITERS ON WRITING; Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle
By ELMORE LEONARD Published: July 16, 2001
These are rules I’ve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I’m writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what’s taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.
1. Never open a book with weather.
If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.
2. Avoid prologues.
They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.
There is a prologue in John Steinbeck’s ”Sweet Thursday,” but it’s O.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: ”I like a lot of talk in a book and I don’t like to have nobody tell me what the guy that’s talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy’s thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That’s nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don’t have to read it. I don’t want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story.”
3. Never use a verb other than ”said” to carry dialogue.
The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned, lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with ”she asseverated,” and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb ”said” . . .
. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances ”full of rape and adverbs.”
5. Keep your exclamation points under control.
You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.
6. Never use the words ”suddenly” or ”all hell broke loose.”
This rule doesn’t require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use ”suddenly” tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you won’t be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories ”Close Range.”
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway’s ”Hills Like White Elephants” what do the ”American and the girl with him” look like? ”She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.
9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.
Unless you’re Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you’re good at it, you don’t want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.
And finally:
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
A rule that came to mind in 1983. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. What the writer is doing, he’s writing, perpetrating hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character’s head, and the reader either knows what the guy’s thinking or doesn’t care. I’ll bet you don’t skip dialogue.
My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.
If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.
Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can’t allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative. It’s my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)
If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character — the one whose view best brings the scene to life — I’m able to concentrate on the voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what they see and what’s going on, and I’m nowhere in sight.
What Steinbeck did in ”Sweet Thursday” was title his chapters as an indication, though obscure, of what they cover. ”Whom the Gods Love They Drive Nuts” is one, ”Lousy Wednesday” another. The third chapter is titled ”Hooptedoodle 1” and the 38th chapter ”Hooptedoodle 2” as warnings to the reader, as if Steinbeck is saying: ”Here’s where you’ll see me taking flights of fancy with my writing, and it won’t get in the way of the story. Skip them if you want.”
”Sweet Thursday” came out in 1954, when I was just beginning to be published, and I’ve never forgotten that prologue.
Did I read the hooptedoodle chapters? Every word.
Writers on Writing
This article is part of a series in which writers explore literary themes. Previous contributions, including essays by John Updike, E. L. Doctorow, Ed McBain, Annie Proulx, Jamaica Kincaid, Saul Bellow and others, can be found with this article at The New York Times on the Web:
Fighting off the Demon of Rejection
For those of you dealing with the demon of literary Rejection right now, please follow the link to a nice, very concise article by Rachael Stanford by on the same. Once you have finished, follow the link at the bottom of the article to a fascinating article by Stephanie Ostroff about how nine famous authors (C.S. Lewis, Anne Frank, Rudyard Kipling, Jack Kerouac, H.G. Wells, Louisa May Alcott, George Orwell, Sylvia Plath, and William Golding) were rejected often hundreds of time, often quite rudely or in a demeaning fashion, yet persevered to become some of the world’s best known writers.
I like stories of rejection like these, because they remind me that not all publishers are as insightful as we writers hope they are. As with all other occupations, there are publishers who are better or worse at their jobs than others. Therefore, if one of my works is rejected, even numerous times, it does not mean that the work is necessarily a stinker. On the other hand, I must confess to have written at least a few stinkers, and therefore I cannot in all good conscience blame publishers for all my bad luck either.
For me, being honest with myself and critically looking at a work that has been rejected several times to determine whether I have honestly done my best with it or if it simply didn’t meet the publisher’s needs at the moment or if the publisher has sufficient I.Q. points to function reasonably well in human society is one of the hardest parts of writing (not writing rambling, run-on sentences like this one is another challenge).
Now I submit everything electronically. Twenty years ago, when I first started writing, I submitted everything by mail. I always kept a file of the rejection slips I collected, so I would always have a working list of who would be eating a heaping dish of crow when I became famous. In fact, for several years I used to pin them to a bulletin board so I could look at them and smirk now and then. I still keep my electronic rejections, though I still need to create a file for them, for the same reason.
I have yet to become famous and the list is still growing, but having all those rejections gives me something to which I can look forward. At least they serve a purpose, which they would not if I took them seriously and let them drag me down: they give me encouragement and they help me persevere by instilling a spirit to prevail.
Thoughts? Comments?
Phil Slattery, Writer, Publisher 